


The Tragedy of Leto, Duke Atreides

by kurtoons



Category: Dune Series - Frank Herbert
Genre: Drama, Elizabethan English, Gen, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-21 17:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9559997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurtoons/pseuds/kurtoons
Summary: A poetic dramatization from Frank Herbert's DUNE"A man for whom a tragic fate was hewn;By doom his footsteps dogged, he came to Dune.





	1. Prologue

Prologue:

IRULAN:  
Beginnings are most delicate of times;  
One must take care, the Bene Gess'rit teach,  
That ev'rything in balance is maintained.  
In studying the Prophet, Muad'Dib,  
One first must put him in his time and place.  
His time: an eon far beyond your own;  
When man has spread beyond earth's firmament  
And spread his seed among the myriad stars.  
A time so distant that our Earth itself  
Is but a memory of ancient lore.  
His place: Arrakis, sometimes known as Dune.  
Yet that was not the planet of his birth;  
Full fifteen years he lived on Caladan,  
A wat'ry world of oceans wide and deep,  
Where ruled his father, Leto, called the Just,  
Duke of the most reknown'd Atreides line.  
This too, one would do well to comprehend;  
For truly, one may ask, what is the son,  
But an extension of his noble sire?  
Although the Prophet's glory blazes bright  
As to outshine his father's ancient name;  
These fruits of greatness can be seen to grow  
Out from the root of his progenitor.  
A man for whom a tragic fate was hewn;  
By doom his footsteps dogged, he came to Dune


	2. Act I, Scene I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet the two chief protagonists of our tragedy, Leto and Jessica, as they share an intimate moment on one of their last evenings together before leaving the planet Caladan. We also learn a bit about the Bene Gesserit and hear of the vile House Harkonnen.

ACT I  
Scene 1

_The palace on Caladan; a balcony overlooking the sea._

_Enter LETO and JESSICA_

JESSICA:  
When will we stand again upon this place  
And look upon the seas of Caladan?

LETO:  
And will you miss them, Jessica, my love?  
You did not always love my ocean world.

JESSICA:  
'Tis true, my Duke. When first I here arrived,  
A young girl from the Bene Gess'rit School,  
Sent by my order in your house to serve,  
I feared the crashing waves and stormy seas.  
Until that time my whole life had been spent  
Cloister'd in the Bene Gesserit;  
And never had the ocean I beheld.  
The vastness of the all-encircling sea  
Seemed infinite to me as space itself;  
It's fickle moods and dark depths fathomless  
A darksome future did to me portend.

LETO:  
What changed your mind?

JESSICA:  
'Twas you, my dearest one;  
I learned to view the oceans through your eyes:  
The splendor of the sunrise on the sea;  
The scent of spray on summer afternoons;  
The many moods of wind upon the waves;  
Even the storm with fearsome majesty;  
These things you loved, and as I knew you more,  
Your loving them made all them dear to me.

LETO:  
And so, perhaps, you'll also come to love  
Arrakis, that is soon to be our home.

JESSICA:  
A barren world, a wasteland, cruel and harsh.

LETO:  
A wealthy world, my love, do not forget;  
And speak not ill of this, our emp'ror's gift.  
He honors House Atreides, and bestows  
That planet's riches on us.

JESSICA:  
Nay, my love;  
I am no child to need a soothing lie.  
Too long as an amanuensis I  
Have served to need protection from the truth.  
I've read the redes that Hawat sends to you,  
Gather'd from his cunning web of spies.

Of all the nobles of the Great Lanstraad,  
The Emperor fears House Atreides most.  
I do not trust his favor, nor do you.  
This gift, this world of riches, late was held  
By House Harkonnen, your ancestral foes.  
I've seen the missive that Harkonnen sent:  
An insult in conciliation cloaked  
And also I have read how you replied.

LETO:  
Then peace. Since of my fears you are aware,  
We shall not let their gloom this ev'ning spoil;  
But hold our time together while it lasts.

_(enter MESSENGER)_

LETO:  
Too soon I spoke! Our moment's respite's gone.  
What is it?

MESSENGER:  
Sire, a spaceship has arrived  
Bearing a bless'd and august passenger:  
The Rev'rend Mother Helen Mohiam.

LETO:  
That name I know; the Bene Gesserit  
Who stands beside the Emp'ror in his court  
And uses eldritch cunning to divine  
The truth in those who come before the throne.  
That witch! I'm sure the Emperor has sent  
Her on some errand vile.

JESSICA:  
Do not forget:  
I also am a Bene Gess'rit witch.  
The Rev'rend Mother once my teacher was.

LETO:  
Forgive me, Love; too rashly did I speak.  
And no unkindness did I mean to thee.  
Indeed, I must forgive the Sisters' schemes,  
For it was they they brought you here to me.  
So since I may not call your friend a witch,  
What does your dear beloved teacher want  
With House Atreides? For I cannot think  
But that she's sent to be the Emp'ror's spy.

JESSICA:  
'Tis I you must forgive; for she has come  
In answer to an invite of mine own.  
It is for me the Rev'rend Mother came.

LETO:  
But why?

JESSICA  
Because of Paul, our dearest son.  
You gave me leave, remember, Paul to train;  
And teach him of my order's mysteries.

LETO:  
Indeed, I did; the gift to winnow truth  
Would be a useful thing for a duke's son.  
And greater pow'rs than that your order have.

JESSICA:  
Not powers, dear, but skills; and yet these skills  
Are ones we rarely teach to those outside  
Our order. Is it then such a surprise  
That thus my mentor's counsel I would seek?

LETO:  
She comes great distance, then, to give advice.  
I have no witching skills to sense the truth;  
But you I know. In this you truly speak,  
Yet other truths perhaps you leave unsaid.  
Do not protest, my love; I press you not.  
On Paul this touches, dearer he to me,  
Then all the planets of the galaxy;  
Not just because he is a son of mine  
But more than that, it is because he's thine.

Come, tell me, did your sisters ever think  
When you they sent to be my concubine  
That I would fall in love?

JESSICA:  
Indeed, they did!  
It was what I was trained for, after all!  
But one thing they did not; they never knew,  
That I would also fall in love with you.

LETO:  
Then to your mentor go, and wish her well;  
And show her ev'ry hospitality.  
I'll leave the rest, sweet Jessica, to you.

JESSICA:  
I take my leave, Leto, my Love; farewell

_(exuent JESSICA and MESSENGER)_

LETO:  
So much, then, for the ev'ning I had planned,  
To spend it in her gentle company;  
And in her kisses sweet and warm embrace  
To for a time forget what is to come.  
The time of reckoning is drawing near;  
And so alone, I grapple with my fear.

(exit LETO)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I conceived this project, my initial plan was to take the straight text of the novel and convert it into Shakespearean language, inventing as little as possible. But almost immediately I found myself breaking this rule.
> 
> I intend this drama to be Leto's story. Paul is indeed important, just as Prince Hal is important in the Henry IV plays; but chiefly I want to focus on Leto's tragic fall. For this reason, I wanted to introduce Leto at the very beginning and establish his relationship with Lady Jessica. This required inventing a scene out of whole cloth; and an intimate, romantic one at that. I was afraid it might come off as stilted, but my hope is that the enforced formality of the iambic pentameter structure will mitigate this.


	3. Act I, Scene 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul Atredies is visited by one of the Creepy Space Nuns of the Bene Gesserit and undergoes an important test.
> 
> "I do misdoubt this dark, ill-omen'd cube;  
> No less the hand that offers it to me.  
> But if a test this be, I must submit."

ACT I  
Scene 2

_(A chamber in Castle Caladan)_  
_(enter REVEREND MOTHER and JESSICA)_

JESSICA:  
Good Rev'rend Mother, sit here by the fire,  
And I will have refreshment brought to thee.  
'Tis many years since last I saw thee here;  
I hope thy journey was a pleasant one.

REVEREND:  
My bones were never meant to traverse space;  
Upon a single world I'd lief remain  
And venture not to planets far from home;  
Nor dicker with the cursed Spacer Guild,  
That sly and secret avaricious band  
Which all who wish to cross the heav'ns must pay.  
Yet we are Bene Gess'rit, born to serve;  
And whither duty calls we thence must go.  
The matter of thy child I must address;  
Bring him to me that I may look at him.

JESSICA:  
I go, then, as you bid; and will anon  
Return here to present to you my son.

_(JESSICA curtsies and exits)_

REVEREND:  
I am in much too choleric a mood;  
My years lie on me heavily this e'en  
And puts my humours out of harmony.  
But first things first; the boy I must assay,  
Is he true gold, or just a counterfeit?  
That cursed girl! If only she had done  
As she was told, and born a female child,  
A daughter of the Duke Atredies blood!  
But soft; they come.

_(Enter JESSICA and PAUL)_

PAUL:  
Is this the Rev'rend Mother I must see?  
Methinks I've marked her sometimes in my dreams.

JESSICA:  
Do not forget to tell her of your dreams.  
She was my teacher at the Gess'rit School,  
And now she serves our noble Emperor  
As truthsayer.

PAUL:  
Is she the reason, then,  
That we did get Arrakis?

JESSICA:  
Stay thy tongue;  
And speak not of Arrakis as a gift.  
Make haste, Paul, for she waits on us within.

_(they advance to REVEREND MOTHER)_

JESSICA:  
Your Rev'rence, let me here present my son;

_(PAUL bows)_

REVEREND:  
My troth, I see he is a cautious one.  
Too curt a bow he knows might give offense  
To one of haughty rank; but one too deep  
might abdicate the station that's his right;  
A calculated courtesy he gives.  
Polite, but neither servile nor too proud.

JESSICA:  
For thus he has been taught, Your Reverence.

REVEREND:  
The meanest ape can yet be taught to dance;

_(aside)_

But has the boy the qualities we seek?  
That we shall see.

_(aloud)_

Go, child, and leave us now;  
And get thee to thy prayers.

JESSICA:  
Your Reverence –

REVEREND:  
Peace, Jessica, you know this must be done.

JESSICA:  
Of course, Your Rev'rence; and I will obey.  
I am a Bene Gess'rit, born to serve.

_(to PAUL)_

Dear Paul, this test that now you must receive;  
A matter is of utmost gravity  
To thy dear mother.

 

PAUL:  
What speak'st thou? A test?

JESSICA:  
Remember, Paul, thy father's noble birth;  
Thou art a duke's son; prithee, show thy worth.

_(exit JESSICA)_

PAUL:  
Does one the Lady Jessica dismiss  
As if she were a lowly serving wench?

REVEREND:  
A serving wench, my lad, the Lady was;  
And waited on me fourteen years at school.  
A good wench, too, it pleases me to say.  
_Now you come here!_

_(startled, PAUL steps up to within an arm's length of the REVEREND MOTHER)_

REVEREND:  
For all your ducal pride,  
You yet can be compelled to obey.

PAUL:  
You used the Voice.

REVEREND:  
Ah, know you of that skill?  
Then you've been taught not merely how to dance.  
Each person has an instinct to obey  
When ordered by the right Authority.  
And when confronted by a sharp command  
In voice tuned to the patterns of his mind,  
That person's body will his brain betray,  
Bypassing reason, with that voice comply.

PAUL:  
What do you want?

_(REVEREND MOTHER produces a box from within her robe)_

REVEREND:  
Tell me, what do you see?

PAUL:  
I see a metal box of greenish hue;  
One side is open; and its insides dark.  
I cannot see the blackness that's within.

REVEREND:  
Place then your hand inside. What, do you shrink?  
Is this the way you do your mother heed?

PAUL: _(aside)_ :  
I do misdoubt this dark, ill-omen'd cube;  
No less the hand that offers it to me.  
But if a test this be, I must submit.

_(PAUL places his hand inside the box.)_

PAUL:  
It's cold; I feel a graveyard chill within;  
And pins and needles prickle on my skin.

_(REVEREND MOTHER swiftly brings her hand to his neck. It holds a long needle)_

PAUL:  
Ah !

REVEREND:  
_Stop!_  
At your neck I hold the gom jabbar,  
We call it the high-handed enemy;  
A needle with a venom at its tip.  
Ah-hah, don't flinch or try to move away  
Or you shall feel the needle's fatal prick.  
A duke's son must of poisons be aware  
And guard against the many forms of death.  
Shall it be murky, poured into your drink,  
Or aumas, slipped into your evening meal?  
There's poisons swift and those that linger slow.  
Here's one that's new to you that you should know:  
The gom jabbar kills animals alone.

PAUL:  
You dare suggest a duke's son be a beast?

REVEREND:  
Say rather that a human might you be.  
Nay! Do not try to squirm; my aged hand  
Is not to old to plunge it in your neck!

PAUL:  
Who are you, wicked crone? And how did you  
Betrick my mother, leaving us alone?  
Did the Harkonnens send you for this deed?

REVEREND:  
Harkonnens? Bless us, no! Now keep thy peace.  
You have not yet done badly, I will say,  
And pass the first part of our little test.  
As for the rest, there's but one simple rule:  
Your hand stays in the confines of the box;  
Withdraw it and that moment you shall die.  
Keep it within and I will let you live.

PAUL:  
If I cry out our servants soon shall come;  
Then you shall be the one to swiftly die.

REVEREND:  
They will not pass your mother at the door.  
She once survived this test; 'tis now your turn.  
Be honored; for this test we seldom give  
To men; so now keep silent and attend.

PAUL: _(aside, reciting)_ :  
I must not fear; for fear doth kill the mind;  
The little-death that stifles human-kind  
So I will face my fear and let it go,  
And over me and through me it will flow.  
Then once it's past, the inner eye I'll turn  
To look upon it's path, and from it learn.  
And where the fear has gone, there in it's train  
There will be nothing; only I remain.

_(aloud)_

Get on, old woman, with your precious test.

REVEREND:  
Old woman! Well, you've courage, that I'll say.  
Yet we will see how long that courage lasts.  
You will feel pain, but yet you must not move;  
Withdraw your hand and feel the gom jabbar;  
'Twill be the last thing that you ever feel.  
Young sirrah, do you think you understand?

PAUL:  
What then is in the box?

REVEREND:  
I said: 'tis pain.

PAUL: _(aside)_ :  
What sort of test is this she offers me?  
My hand doth tingle, but I feel no pain.  
It now begins to itch; the cunning hag;  
She plants suggestions in my unsure mind.

REVEREND:  
You've heard, perhaps of animals, entrapped,  
In beastly desperation maim themselves;  
They'll chew their leg off to escape the snare.  
A human in the trap would bide his time,  
Enduring anguish and dissembling death  
That he might kill the trapper when he comes.

PAUL:  
Why are you doing this?

REVEREND:  
I want to see  
If you are truly human; now keep still!

PAUL: _(aside)_ :  
'Tis warmer now; the itch becomes a burn;  
As if my hand were held over a fire.  
My stubborn fingers answer not to me  
And will not move, much as I bid them to.  
And now anon the heat grows more intense;  
I feel the flames that lick upon my skin.

 _(aloud)_ :

It burns.

REVEREND:  
Keep silent !

(aside):

Now the test begins.

PAUL: _(aside)_ :  
I must not fear, for fear doth kill the mind.  
The pain is greater now, and ever grows;  
It bites down through the flesh right to the bone.  
And rages through my sinews like a fire.  
The little-death that stifles – Ah! The pain!  
All hell's distilled within that cursed box,  
And in my palm I hold damnation's fire!  
I cannot bear it! Yet, endure I must!  
So I will face my fear and let it go.

REVEREND:  
Enough! 

_(aside)_

Kull wahad! Longer he endured  
Than any other acolyte I've known.  
I must have truly wanted him to fail.

_(withdraws the gom jabbar. Aloud:)_

Withdraw thy hand, young human, and behold.

PAUL: _(aside)_  
She called me 'human'; did I pass the test?  
But what cost to my charred and blackend limb?

_(withdraws hand from box and regards it with wonder)_

What wonder's this? I see my hand is whole!  
No mark to show the agony endured!

REVEREND:  
The pain was but a phantom of the mind  
The cube but coaxed the fibers of your nerves  
To relay to your brain a false report.  
Potential humans we've no wish to maim.  
Many there are who'd pay a handsome price  
To learn the secrets of this little box.

PAUL:  
And this you did unto my mother once?

REVEREND:  
Have ever you when playing on the beach  
Employ'd a screen for sifting of the sand?

PAUL: _(aside)_  
She does not answer; Ah! But now I see!

REVEREND:  
'Tis people whom the Bene Gesserit sift;  
And through the screen, humans we hope to find.  
The pain is but the axis of the test.  
Your mother will have taught you to observe;  
So I observed you through your agonies  
To mark how well the suff'rings you endured.  
Crisis and observation is our test.

PAUL:  
It's truth!

REVEREND: _(aside)_  
He senses truth! Is he the one?  
Nay, hope clouds judgment and I must be sure.

(aloud)

You know when folk believe the things they say?

PAUL:  
I do.

REVEREND:  
Perhaps you are the one we seek,  
The Kwisatz Haderach of ancient lore.  
Sit down then, little brother, at my feet.

PAUL:  
With all respect, madam, I'd liefer stand.

REVEREND:  
Your mother sat before me when I taught.

PAUL:  
I am not she; and standing I'll remain.

REVEREND:  
You hate us just a little, is that so?  
Come Jessica! 

_(enter JESSICA at door)_  
A question I would ask:  
Have ever you, dear child, stopped hating me?

JESSICA:  
I love and hate thee, as I always will.  
The hate comes from the painful lessons learned  
That ne'er I must forget. But then, the love...

REVEREND:  
The love just is. Come in, but keep thy peace;  
And close the door that we be not disturbed.

JESSICA: _(aside)_  
He lives! My son has passed the gom jabbar!  
I knew my son was human, or I hoped;  
Until this moment I knew not for sure  
I felt my own life hanging on his fate  
While waiting for pronouncement of his doom.  
But now he lives; and so can I live too.

PAUL:  
Why do you test for humans, as you say?

REVEREND:  
To set you free.

PAUL:  
I do not understand.

REVEREND:  
There was a time when men in foolish pride  
Did turn their thinking over to machines  
In hopes that this would free them; but alas,  
'Twas not the case. For other cunning men  
Devised machines enslaving them again.

PAUL:  
'Tis written: “Thou shalt not craft a machine  
In likeness of the mind of mortal man.”

REVEREND:  
Indeed, 'tis written thus; but better said:  
“Thou shalt not counterfeit a human mind.”  
You have a Mentat in your house, I ween.  
Have you him studied?

PAUL:  
With him, yes I have.  
His name is Thufir Hawat, if you please;  
My tutor, and I deem him as my friend.

REVEREND:  
The Great Revolt removed from men a crutch.  
When Butler brought his jihad to the stars  
To wage war 'gainst all artificial thought,  
Branding computers an anathema  
And casting down the Baals of silicon;  
One favor did he do to human-kind:  
He forced men then to exercise the mind--  
Human minds, not algorithmic code.  
Thus schools were started, human minds to train,  
And human talents cultivate and grow.

PAUL:  
The Bene Gess'rit then were one such school?

REVEREND:  
Indeed. The Spacing Guild was yet another.  
The Guild doth contemplate the lofty realms  
Of purest mathematics; so we think.  
They jealous guard their secret disciplines.  
Another function we ourselves perform.

PAUL:  
'Tis politics, I gather?

REVEREND:  
Kull wahad!

JESSICA:  
Your Reverence, I swear I told him not.

REVEREND:  
Your guess is shrewd, and not completely wrong.  
We of the Bene Gess'rit saw a need  
For continuity in man's affairs:  
A common thread to guide the destiny  
Of human-kind; and to that noble end  
We separate the better human stock  
From lesser beasts who merely look like men.  
And like the prudent farmer, breed our herds  
So to produce superior progeny.

PAUL: _(aside)_ :  
Her words are wrong; she does not speak the truth.  
Yet neither doth she lie, for she believes  
The words she says, and yet they still are wrong.  
There's something deep here I must apprehend.

 _(aloud)_ :

You take upon yourselves a heavy task.

REVEREND:  
A heavy burden, yes it is indeed.

PAUL:  
You say I might be Kwisatz Haderach;  
What's that? Is it a human Gom Jabbar?

JESSICA:  
Speak not unto her Reverence with that tone!

REVEREND:  
Peace, Jessica; and let me answer him.  
Now, lad, know ye of the Truthsayer drug?

PAUL:  
'Tis something that the Bene Gess'rit use,  
My mother's told me, for to magnify  
Your skill detecting errant lies from truth.

REVEREND:  
And have you seen the truthtrance?

PAUL:  
I have not.

REVEREND:  
The drug is perilous; and yet it gives  
Us insight we might otherwise have not.  
It lets us look deep in our memories;  
Not just of mind but of our bodies too;  
Of lives lived past, in myriad avenues.  
But female memories alone we see.  
The other aspect of our past is dark;  
We cannot go there; there we cannot see.  
'Tis said by us a man will some day come  
And in this drug will find his inward eye.  
Then he will look within where we cannot:  
Into both sexes' aspects of the past.

PAUL:  
And this, then, is your Kwisatz Haderach?

REVEREND:  
The one who can see many pasts at once.  
The Kwisatz Haderach of whom we seek.  
Many men the Truthtrance drug have tried  
In hopes that he at last would be the one.

PAUL:  
They tried and failed?

REVEREND:  
No, lad, they tried and died.  
Come hither, Jessica, and take my arm.  
I would a private word now have with thee.  
I'll speak with thee again, lad, more anon.

_(Exuent JESSICA and REVEREND MOTHER)_

PAUL:  
That woman's gained a dreadful hold on me.  
What did that fearful testing truly mean?  
It must possess a purpose terrible  
For her such pain and terror to inflict.  
And what of I? Have I a purpose too,  
Unknown to me, yet laid before my feet?  
Relentless as the hand of Destiny?  
She's given me much matter to digest;  
No more, I fear, shall I enjoy the rest.

_(exit PAUL)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first scene in which I follow my plan of taking the novel's text and converting it into imitation Shakespeare. And right away it brought me up against a couple more challenges I hadn't really considered when I first conceived this project.
> 
> The first chapter is told mostly from Paul's point of view and encompasses a couple of short scenelets before we get to Paul's interview with the Reverend Mother. In the novel this gives us a little world-building and more importantly some anticipation of things to come and eases us into this first dramatic confrontation; but on the stage this would require three or four separate scenes for each bit or tedious explanation of the time passage between each one. So I cut the bits I felt were irrelevant and tried to fold the important material from them into the main scene.
> 
> I kind of expected this sort of necessity; but I hadn't considered an obvious problem. In a novel or a movie, you can begin a scene with everybody in place, and end a scene on a dramatic moment, jumping to a new scene. In a theatrical performance, you have to first get the characters on stage, and then get everybody off stage at the end. Oh yes, in the Modern Theater, you can raise or lower the curtain to get this effect, or more drastically, do a "blackout" and end the scene by cutting the lights; but these were options the Elizabethan Theater did not have.
> 
> So I could not end the chapter with the Reverend Mother's dramatic statement "They tried and died" the way Herbert does in the book. I had to herd the characters off-stage to make room for the next scene. By shoveling the Reverend Mother and Jessica off first, I gave Paul the chance to muse privately about what had just happened.
> 
> I'm not entirely happy with the Gom Jabbar. This plays well in the book, where we get into Paul's mind; and the movie and TV adaptations, which gives a sense of intimacy through close-ups. But you can't really do close-ups on the stage; so I had to convey Paul's state of mind through his asides. Which was one of the reasons I chose to translate DUNE into the language of the Elizabethan Theater; because I thought that the conventions of dramatic asides and soliloquies would be a good way to convey the character's inward thoughts. So this scene was also a test for myself as well as for Paul, seeing if my plan would actually work.
> 
> I was mostly happy with the way the "Litany Against Fear" turned out. It's such an iconic element of the book that I definitely wanted to include it. I also wanted to make it seem like a ritual formula and so I tried to make it sound different than regular speech. The technique I came up with was to render the Litany in rhyming couplets. (I had also thought to give it a different meter than the rest of the dialogue; but in the end I found it easier to use the same iambic pentameter).
> 
> I've used occasional rhyming couplets in other places so far, mostly to punctuate exit lines. And some places just cry out for a rhyme.
> 
> Portraying "The Voice" was another challenge. I think I explained it about as well as I could. This, I fear, is a problem for the director and the actor will need to grapple with. As a dramatist, i can only do so much. It's something that becomes used later on, so I needed to establish what it was and how it works. In later scenes it's use is a bit more complicated, so it's important for the audience to have a good understanding of it.


	4. Act I, Scene 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet our villains: Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, the hereditary enemy of the House Atreides; his chief adviser and assassin Piter de Vris; and his nephew, Feyd-Rautha, who endures the thankless duty of having his uncle's plots explained to him.
> 
> FEYD: _(aside)_  
>  My uncle cannot with his Mentat speak  
> Yet not be drawn in petty argument.  
> Think they I have no better things to do  
> Than listen to their endless bickering?

ACT I  
Scene 3

_The Baron's study in Castle Harkonnen on Geidi Prime_

_Enter FEYD-RAUTHA_

FEYD:  
Baron? Good Uncle, tell me, are you here?  
Where is that fat and over-bloated toad?  
He bade me come to meet him; where is he?  
Feeding his greedy face, I have no doubt.  
So gross his weight and massive is his frame,  
In roundness it is like a second moon;  
Its vast circumference by suspensors ring'd  
To bear the heavy burden of his bulk.  
Or else he's sating baser appetites  
On some unwilling household Ganymede.  
But then, mayhap, he's otherwise detained.  
Rabban, my brother, this day has returned  
Back from Arrakis, where he lately ruled.  
Perhaps my Uncle wishes Beast Rabban  
To give account of what has happened there.  
Our uncle yet is childless and unwed;  
Rabban and I the only heirs he has.  
I am his favorite, so he always says;  
Yet Uncle is a calculating beast  
And likes to keep us both upon our guard.  
But soft! I hear the aggravated whine  
Of his suspensors protesting their load.

_(Enter BARON HARKONNEN, followed by PITER DeVRIS_

FEYD:  
My Uncle!

BARON:  
Feyd-Rautha, beamish boy!  
I see you are admiring yonder globe;  
A lovely piece of workmanship, indeed.  
Made by the Emperor's own artisans,  
And from a block of Chusuk agate carved;  
Inlaid with wire of hair-fine platinum  
To mark the lines of its meridians.  
How exquisite the swirls of gold and brown!  
In likeness like the sweetest caramel;  
And on its surface not a spot of blue:  
No mighty oceans, rivers, lakes or streams.  
And see the cloud-milk diamonds at the poles?  
Such tiny ice caps for so great a world;  
A hint of frosting on this dainty treat.  
Could anyone this lovely world mistake?  
Arrakis! Desert world; a place unique!  
What better setting for my victory?  
The biggest man-trap in all history!

PITER:  
And think, dear Baron, that our emperor  
Believes he's given this world to the Duke.  
So touching that I nearly have to weep.

BARON:  
You jest, dear Piter, such as is your wont;  
In order for our nephew to confuse.  
Your gibe's misplaced; Feyd needs not be befooled.

FEYD:  
Dear Uncle, why exactly am I here?

BARON:  
I wished you here to listen and to learn.

_(enter SERVANT)_

How now? Don't stand there; do your task, then leave.

_(SERVANT bows and hands message to PITER; then bows and exits. PITER reads message)_

PITER:  
Oho! The very man of whom we speak!  
Audacious fool! He's given us reply.

BARON:  
The House Atreides never can resist  
An opportunity for gesture grand.  
Piter, read on; what does Duke Leto say?

 

PITER:  
Duke Leto here I fear is most uncouth;  
Addressing you not by your rightful rank,  
Nor couched in customary words polite;  
But merely as 'Harkonnen,” like some knave.

BARON:  
A good name, too; I bear it with no shame.  
Less prattle and more matter. Go, read on.

PITER:  
“Your offer of a meeting is refused.  
I have oftentimes have met your treachery.”

BARON:  
We looked to such an answer, did we not?

PITER:  
Ah, wait, my liege, he has yet more to say:  
“Know that the art of kanly has not died;  
And in the Empire has admirers still.”  
And arrogantly signs it by his hand:  
“Duke Leto of Arrakis!” My, how droll!  
As if your world would e'er to him belong!

BARON:  
Be silent, Piter! Curb thy errant tongue!  
It's kanly, is it, that our Duke invokes?  
An ancient word, in rich tradition steeped.  
He dares declare vendetta 'ganist our house,  
Yet even threatens vengeance by the book.

PITER:  
We've followed all the rules, Lord, have we not?  
The overtures of peace to him we've paid.  
We're blameless now, the forms have been observed.

BARON:  
Piter, you've said enough; you talk too much.

PITER:  
But Baron! Think, how glorious is your plan!  
Never has vengeance been more beautiful!  
A snare of most exquisite treachery!  
To make Leto trade Caladan for Dune –  
And do so at the Emperor's request!  
'Tis quite the waggish prank upon the Duke.

BARON:  
The torrent of thy tongue grows tiresome.

PITER:  
Do you, my lord, mislike my merry mood?  
Perhaps thine own is touched by jealousy  
That you alone could not this plot devise.

BARON:  
Someday I'll have you strangled, knavish rogue,  
And stop your ill-timed jests within your throat.

PITER:  
Of course you will; I should expect no less.  
But not today, my Baron; not just yet.  
“Twas for my Mentat mind you hired me;  
I certainly have wit to calculate  
The hour you call my executioner.  
You shall not slay me while I have some use;  
And so I know 'til then you'll stay your hand.  
You learned that lesson from the planet Dune:  
“Thou shalt not waste”; and so my life you'll spare.

FEYD: _(aside)_  
My uncle cannot with his Mentat speak  
Yet not be drawn in petty argument.  
Think they I have no better things to do  
Than listen to their endless bickering?

BARON:  
Attend, dear Feyd. I brought you here today  
To listen to our council, and to learn.  
And are you learning?

FEYD:  
Yes, Uncle, indeed!

BARON:  
Sometimes I wonder about Piter, Feyd.  
I cause pain out of pure necessity;  
But he, I swear, inflicts pain with delight  
And revels in his victim's agonies.  
I can myself, for Leto pity feel.  
Our Doctor Yueh soon shall make his move  
And that shall be the House Atreides' end;  
But in the end the Duke will surely know  
That my hand did his false physician move;  
How terrible to him that fact shall prove.

PITER:  
Then why not have the doctor you command  
A bodkin slip between our Leto's ribs?  
A simple death, efficient and discreet.  
You speak of pity, but –

BARON:  
The Duke must know!   
And all the noble houses know as well  
That Vladimir Harkonnen sealed his fate!  
Observing Leto's doom shall cause them fear,  
And in that hesitation I will gain  
The room to place my other stratagems!

PITER:  
You move too boldly, Baron, and too rash.  
The Emperor doth have his eye on you;  
And someday he may see you go too far.  
He will not hesitate in trembl'ing fear,  
But quickly to Giedi Prime dispatch  
A legion of his fearsome Sardauker;  
His bloody-handed warrior elite;  
And that will be the House Harkonnen's end.

BARON:  
That would amuse you, Piter, would it not?  
You revel over-much in blood and pain.  
Perhaps I was too hasty with my vow  
That you would share Arrakis and its spoils.

PITER:  
Do not, Dear Baron, with your Piter toy.  
You promised me the Lady Jessica.  
You promised her--

BARON:  
For what, sirrah? For pain?

FEYD:  
Dear Uncle, must I longer here remain?  
You said –

BARON:  
My darling Feyd impatient grows.  
Come, tarry yet a bit, and patient be.  
What of the Dukeling, Piter, youthful Paul?

PITER:  
The trap will bring him to your hand, no fear.

BARON:  
Ah, that is not the question which I seek.  
You will recall, if mine plays not me false,  
That you foretold the Bene Gess'rit witch  
Would bear a daughter to the Duke; 'tis so?  
In that prediction, Mentat, you were wrong.

PITER:  
I am not often wrong, lord, give me that!  
You cannot hold that flaw to my account!  
You know yourself the Bene Gesserit  
Bears mostly daughters to the lords they serve.  
I know not by what cunning eldrich arts  
They can their unborn offspring's gender choose;  
Yet this they do; and rarely bear they sons.  
The Emperor himself has no male heirs;  
His consort only females has produced.

FEYD:  
You said, Dear Uncle, that I should be here  
Since matter of great import you'd discuss –

BARON:  
Hark ye to my aggrievéd nephew's whine.  
To rule my Barony he doth aspire,  
Yet foolishly he cannot rule himself!  
Then mark me, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen:  
I summoned you some wisdom to impart.  
Have you our goodly Mentat here observ'd?  
You should have learn'd a bit from our exchange.  
A most efficient Mentat, is he not?

FEYD:  
Indeed, my Uncle, but –

BARON:  
Ah-ha! Yes, but!  
He has his little vices just the same;  
The Spice Melange like sweetmeats he devours;  
It tints his eyes an alien shade of blue  
Like any villein pluck'd from Arrakeen.  
Efficient, yet mercurial in his moods;  
And oftimes prone to giving passion vent.  
Efficient, Piter, yet he still can err.

PITER:  
Is this the reason why you called me hence;  
To cast aspersions on my Mentat skills  
And thusly my efficiency impair?

BARON:  
Impair you? Nay, good Piter! No, not I!  
I only wish my Feyd to apprehend  
The limitations of a Mentat's mind.  
Your qualities I wish him to observe.

PITER:  
I'm on display then? Marry, shall I dance?  
Shall I my varied functions now perform  
For noble Feyd-Rautha's benefit?

BARON:  
Indeed; you're, like a waxwork, on display;  
And like a waxwork, equally be dumb.  
Behold, dear Feyd, a Mentat here you see.  
A living tool through subtle training forged  
In order certain duties to perform.  
But mark well, Feyd, this crafty, cunning tool  
Within a human body is encased;  
A grave defect you must not overlook.  
Sometimes I think the Ancients did aright  
Their thinking mechanisms to create.

PITER:  
Those trifles were but toys compared to me.  
You, Baron, even untrained as you are,  
Could out-perform those pitiful machines.

BARON:  
Perhaps 'tis as you say. It matters not.  
Now, Piter, for my nephew kindly list  
The salient features of our bold campaign  
To humble proud Atreides.

PITER:  
Is it wise  
Such knowledge to entrust to one so young?

BARON:  
In that I'll be the judge. I wish it so.  
I give you a command; fulfill your task;  
Perform the Mentat function I require.

PITER:  
So be it. I will do as you command.  
Within a few days time, the noble Duke,  
With all his household and his retinue  
Shall board a liner of the Spacing Guild  
Bound for Arrakis, for that world to claim.  
He'll choose the town of Arakeen to hold,  
And not our former seat of Carthag-town;  
For Leto's Mentat, Hawat, will conclude  
That Arakeen is better to defend.

BARON:  
Listen, Feyd, most carefully and mark:  
Observe the plans with deeper plans within!

FEYD: _(aside):_  
This is more like what I hoped to hear!  
The old beast brings me in his confidence  
And lets me in on secret things at last!  
He really must wish me to be his heir!

PITER:  
I calculate that Leto this will do;  
But other possibilities there be.  
He might decline to step into our trap  
And bribe the Guild to take him far away  
Beyond the bounds of the Imperium.  
Other houses in like circumstance  
Have fled the Empire and turned renegade;  
Taking their atomics, kith and kin,  
But forfeiting their honor and their name.

BARON:  
The Duke is much too proud a man for that.

PITER:  
'Tis possible; a factor to be mark'd.  
The ultimate effect would be the same:  
The House Atreides crushed, and you supreme.

BARON:  
'Tis not enough! I must have Leto dead  
And see an end to the Atreides line!

PITER:  
And so you likely will; the chances that  
Duke Leto might go rogue are quite remote.  
I've seen no signs that he intends to flee

BARON:  
Then why the devil mention it at all?  
Stop prattling and get thee to the point.

PITER:  
At Arakeen, Duke Leto and his clan  
Shall occupy the lordly residence  
where Count and Lady Fenring lately dwelt.  
Our agents will some incidents contrive  
Distracting Leto from our true design.  
We'll manage an attempt upon the life  
Of the Atreides heir – which may succeed.

BARON:  
You told me it would only be a feint,  
And that the boy was not our cardinal aim!

PITER:  
I did indeed; yet sometimes wanton Chance  
Confounds our aim and sends our shot astray  
Our man knows not that he's supposed to fail,  
And may succeed despite our best intent.  
Th'attempt must seem in earnest, after all.

BARON:  
Alas, you may be right; a pity, tho'.  
The lad has such a sweet and comely form.  
But then again, the young Atreides cub  
May yet an even greater danger prove  
Than e'en the cunning wolf of Caladan.  
The boy no doubt has from his mother learn'd  
Uncanny arcane trick'ry – Curse the witch!  
No matter. Pray, continue with thy plan.

PITER:  
Good Hawat is no fool; he will divine  
That he will have an agent of our own,  
Implanted in the ducal retinue.  
But who? The Doctor, Yueh, he'll suspect;  
And rightly so, for he our agent is.  
But Yueh is no ordinary leech;  
He bears the emblem of the School of Suk,  
A seal denoting highest confidence.  
For Suk physicians so conditioned are  
That they cannot a patient bring to harm.  
This beneficial geas can't be removed  
Without destruction of the subject's mind.  
The Emperor himself can trust the Suk  
So Hawat will the Doctor trust as well.  
However, as an ancient once observed,  
A lever, rightly placed, a world can move.  
This lever, for our Doctor, we have found.

FEYD:  
How did you this? For ev'ryone doth know  
Suk doctors to be incorruptible!

BARON:  
Anon, anon. Continue, Piter, pray.

PITER:  
In place of Yueh, we'll contrive to draw  
A herring red across the bloodhound's scent:  
A suspect so audacious and so bold  
That Hawat's Mentat mind will on her seize.

FEYD:  
Her, did you say? What woman do you mean?

BARON:  
He means the Lady Jessica herself.

PITER:  
Aye, is it not sublime? Good Hawat's mind  
Will by this prospect so distracted be  
That it his Mentat function shall impair.  
Mayhap he'll e'en the Lady try to kill,  
Although in that I think he shan't succeed.

BARON:  
Thou mean'st thou hopes he shan't; am I not right?

PITER:  
Distract me not. With Hawat occupied  
By base suspicions of her treachery,  
Then his attentions further we'll divert  
With local insurrections and the like.  
These Leto will put down; he must believe  
That he is gaining some security.  
Then when we deem the moment fully ripe,  
We'll signal Yueh for his final stroke;  
And in we'll move with forces of our own,  
Including, ah...

BARON:  
Don't waver, go ahead;  
And tell dear Feyd the final crowning blow.

PITER:  
Our armies on that day will strengthened be  
By legions of Imperial Sardaukar  
In House Harkonnen livery disguis'd

FEYD:  
The Sardaukar! The dread Imperial troops?  
The Padishah's fanatical elite?

BARON:  
E'en they. See how I trust you, Darling Feyd?  
No hint of this must ever 'scape this room  
Nor come to any other House's ear.  
For if they knew, the Landsradd would unite  
Against the meddling of the Emperor.  
That would mean chaos.

PITER:  
So it would; but mark:  
Since House Harkonnen here is being used  
To do the dirty work which would defile  
The Emp'ror's dainty hand, we thus will gain  
Advantage of a great significance.  
'Twill also be a danger, to be sure;  
But used with prudence, it our House will bring  
Wealth greater than to any other house  
Within the Galaxy's Imperium.  
Back to the plan. 'Tis possible the Duke  
Feeling the tight'ning snare around his neck  
May in the sands a sanctuary seek  
Amongst the wild and uncouth Fremen scum  
Who in the distant desert marches dwell.  
Or else, unable his own life to save,  
He'll hope his son and concubine to send  
To that delusional security.   
No hope he'll find; that pathway has been block'd.  
The Emperor's own agent guards that route:  
The steward, Kynes, planet ecologist.  
You may remember him –

BARON:  
He does. Go on.

PITER:  
My Master, have some patience, if you please;  
You are not pretty, Baron, when you drool.

BARON:  
And neither is my countenance arranged  
To curry your approval. To the point!  
And cease your wand'ring from the stated path.  
Get on with it! And so I thus command!

PITER:  
If matters go according to the plan,  
Before the passing of a Standard Year,  
A sub-fief on Arrakis we'll control.  
Unlike before, when last we ruled that world  
And at the Emp'ror's pleasure merely served,  
The fief shall be your uncle's to command,  
And govern'd by the steward of his choice.

FEYD:  
'Twill mean more profits.

BARON:  
Aye, Feyd, now you see!  
'Tis only fitting that this house should gain.  
'Twas House Harkonnen who Arrakis tamed,  
Save for some mongrel Fremen in the dunes;  
'Twas we who earned the spoils of that land.

PITER:  
And when we've come again into our own,  
The other noble houses all will know  
That Vladimir Harkonnen was the one  
Who brought the great Atreides House to ruin.  
And knowing, they will tremble.

BARON:  
Aye, they'll know.

PITER:  
And loveliest of all, so will the Duke.  
E'en now he feels the trap begin to close.

BARON:  
'Tis true, alas. He could not help but know.  
A pity, that. No matter; come, dear Feyd,  
And summon servants dinner to prepare.  
This discourse here hath whet my appetite;  
I hunger; let us dine before the night.

_(exuent omnes)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feyd really doesn't have much to do in this scene, except to sulk and pretend with ill grace to be dutiful. He's mainly there as an excuse for the Baron and Piter to explain their plan. In the book, he does not enter the story again until halfway through, well past the point where I intend to close this play. Yet he still is important. In the book he serves as a foil to Paul; a sort of mirror image, the man Paul might have become had things gone differently. He serves a similar role in relation to Paul that Hotspur does to Prince Hal in the Henry IV plays.
> 
> In some ways Piter plays a role similar to the Fool in some of Shakepeare's plays, but certainly a much darker role. I considered having Piter speak in rhyming couplets, just to be annoying. He likes to be annoying. But it proved too cumbersome. I also thought to have him speak in ordinary prose when providing data in his role as a Mentat, but his snarky comments and gibes demanded a more mannered approach.


	5. Act I, Scene 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul tells the Reverend Mother about his prescient dreams.
> 
> PAUL: (aside)  
> What oracle is she to make this claim?  
> How dare she thus my father's life dismiss  
> As if a thing of little consequence?

ACT I  
Scene 4

_(Castle Caladan; another chamber)_  
( _enter LADY JESSICA )_

JESSICA:

How long ago was I that frightened youth,  
Who placed her hand into that loathsome box!  
Scarce more than child, nor yet to woman grown;  
And tortured by the winds of puberty.  
Afraid I'd prove unworthy to the test,  
And fearful of the Reverend Mother's scorn.  
Yet all these terrors melted like the dew  
Before the dreadful all-consuming pain  
That lurked within the box's ebon walls.  
Although my mind has labored to forget,  
My hand, each joint and sinew, doth recall  
The agonies eternal it endured.

_(Enter REVEREND MOTHER)_

REVEREND:  
Well, Jessica, what dost thou have to say?

JESSICA:  
Alas, poor Paul!  
Would that I could have spared him that ordeal.

REVEREND:  
I asked a question, Jessica! Attend!

JESSICA:  
What? Oh! My wits did wander; pardon, please.  
What is it that thou wishest me to say?

REVEREND:  
“What is it that thou wishest me to say?”  
What dost thou think?

JESSICA:  
So then! I had a son!

REVEREND:  
Unto the House Atreides you were charged  
Daughters alone to bear. You disobeyed.

JESSICA:  
It meant so much to him.

REVEREND:  
And in your pride  
You thought you could produce the one we seek:  
The Kwitzach Haderch! You foolish girl!

JESSICA:  
I thought I sensed the possibility.

REVEREND:  
You had no thought but of your Duke's desire  
To have a son to pass along his name.  
But his desires don't reckon into this.  
A daughter born to the Atreides line  
We could have wed to an Harkonnen heir,  
To heal their house's ancient enmity.  
Thy child has thrown this plan in disarray;  
So we perhaps may lose both bloodlines now.

JESSICA:  
You're not infallible.

REVEREND:  
What's done is done.

JESSICA:  
I vowed that I would ne'er regret my choice

REVEREND:  
A noble resolution; no regrets.  
But we shall see how fast holds that resolve  
When you have lost both family and home;  
An outcast with a price upon her head,  
The hand of ev'ry man against you turned  
To take your life and that of your dear son.

JESSICA:  
Yet doth our fate show no alternative  
To this portentous prophecy of doom?

REVEREND:  
Alternative? A foolish thing to ask.  
A Bene Gess'rit better ought to know.

JESSICA:  
Your skills and wisdom far exceed mine own;  
I only ask what future they divine.

REVEREND:  
The future? I have seen it in the past.  
Our pattern of affairs you well should know:  
The Human Race, like one huge entity,  
Unconscious knows its own mortality  
And fears for the stagnation of its seed.  
This existential dread is in the blood;  
And pushes men to blindly procreate;  
To mingle without system nor design  
The twisted strands of their genetic strains.  
The scepter of the great Imperium,  
The profits of the CHOAM Company,  
The ancient Houses of the Landsraad too,  
These mighty institutions are but chaff  
And flotsam swept before that mighty flood.  
This is the pattern history teaches, girl.

JESSICA:  
How splendid! A review of history.  
That certainly is just what now I need!

REVEREND:  
Don't be facetious, thou my saucy wench!  
The forces that surround us well you know.  
Upon three legs the galaxy doth rest:  
The power of the great Imperial throne,  
In balance 'gainst the noble houses set;  
And 'twixt them both, the Interstellar Guild  
With their thrice-curséd trade monopoly.  
But politics loathes a triumvirate;  
A tripod proves a weak, unsteady base  
Upon which to support a government.  
Combine this with a culture based on trade  
And oft-conflicting feudal loyalties,  
Which turns its back on scientific arts,  
This yields a situation at its worst:  
The waters of a dam about to burst!

JESSICA:  
And in that torrent chips of wood are we  
Overwhelmed and helpless in the flood.  
This chip's Duke Leto; and this one's his son;  
This other one, alas! Is mine alone.

REVEREND:  
Oh, shut up, girl! Your pity'ng keening cease!  
You promised 'No regrets,' or so you said.  
You knew full well before you e'en began  
The deadly sword's edge that your path would trace.

JESSICA:  
I am a Bene Gess'rit, born to serve.

REVEREND:  
Indeed; 'tis truth. And now our only hope  
Is to constrain the fury of this flood  
To mitigate its cataclysmic swath;  
And salvage of the bloodlines what we can.

JESSICA:  
I've erred, and for my own mistake I'll pay.

REVEREND:  
And with you, your own son will pay as well.

JESSICA:  
I'll try to shield the boy as best I can

REVEREND:  
You'll shield him? Nay, you know the weakness there!  
The sheltered plant cannot withstand the storm.  
Protect your son too much and he'll not grow  
Enough for any destiny to know.

JESSICA:  
This world, Arrakis, where we soon will go,  
Is it as terrible as says report?

REVEREND:  
'Tis certes bad, but not quite wholly so.  
Our order long has missionaries sent  
To distant worlds with manufactured myths;  
Planting them like seeds in alien soil;  
That in due time, should e'er we come again,  
Folk on those worlds our order would revere.  
We've done this on Arrakis, and the fruit  
That from these ancient legends there have grown  
Should offer some protection, I would deem.  
Enough of this; call now the boy in here.  
My time is short; I must be leaving soon.

JESSICA:  
Must you? Alas, I’d fain thou could’st but stay.

REVEREND:  
Dear girl, I wish I could stand in thy place  
And take upon myself thy sufferings.  
But each of us her own path has to take;  
I cannot tread that tearsome trail for thee.

JESSICA:  
Aye, this I know.

REVEREND:  
You are as dear to me  
As any of the daughters I have born.  
Yet I cannot let fondness interfere  
With that stern rule which duty doth impose.

JESSICA:  
‘Tis necessary; this I apprehend.

REVEREND:  
This thing thou did’st, and wherefore, both we know.  
But kindness forces me, alas, to say  
There’s little chance, I fear, thy lad will be  
The Bene Gesserit Totality  
Thou must not let thyself, child, hope too much.

JESSICA:  
I feel like I’m a little girl again  
Reciting my first lessons in your class.  
“Humans to animals must ne’er submit.”  
I’ve been so lonely.

REVEREND:  
It should be a test;  
For humans almost always lonely are.  
Now summon here the boy; he’s had some time  
To think upon his long and fright’ning day.  
And I must ask about those dreams of his.

JESSICA:  
Come hither, Paul, I bid thee to attend.

_(Enter PAUL)_

REVEREND:  
Young fellow, let us to your dreams return.

PAUL:  
Good madam, tell me, what is it you’d learn?

REVEREND:  
Does ev’ry night to you these visions bring?

PAUL:  
Yes, but not all are worth remembering.  
Each dream that comes to me I recollect,  
Yet some are more than others worth respect.

REVEREND:  
And how between the two can you judge so?

PAUL:  
I know not how; regardless, though, I know.

REVEREND:  
What dreams, then, did your last night's slumber bring,  
And were they likewise worth remembering?

PAUL:  
I'll tell thee, and then you may be the judge.

I sit within a cavern, dark and deep  
Like unto a cathedral carved in stone  
Whose vot'ries robed in shadow past me creep  
But neither prayer nor solemn psalm intone;  
Within the confines of that vast retreat,  
No noises echo in that vestibule  
Save for the slow and yet incessant beat  
Of water dripping in a distant pool  
A skinny girl, a lass I somehow knew,  
Sits by me in the cavern's elfin light  
Her eyes are shoreless oceans, blue on blue  
With no encircl'ing beach of milky white  
I tell her of my meeting you and how  
You put a stamp of strangeness on my brow.

REVEREND: _(aside)_  
A stamp of strangeness.; curious thing to say

__

_(aloud)_

__

Now tell me truly, Paul, about these dreams;  
Do you have dreams that often come to pass  
Exactly as these nighttime visions tell?

__

PAUL:  
I do; and I have dreamed about that girl before.

__

REVEREND:  
Oho! And do you know her then?

__

PAUL:  
I will.

__

REVEREND:  
Then tell me of this maiden yet-to-come.

__

PAUL:  
We're in a cranny sheltered in the rocks.  
The sun is sinking past the distant dunes,  
But daytime's furnace heat doth linger still.  
We're waiting; but for what, I cannot say;  
Perhaps to meet some folk; I know not whom.  
She's frightened; but she tries to mask her fear.  
She holds me in the azure of her gaze  
And “Tell me of your world, Usul,” she says.  
'Tis passing strange; for Caladan's my home;  
And never heard a planet Usul called.  
Unless 'twas I she beckoned by that name.  
No matter. I return now to the dream.  
She asks about the waters of my world.  
I take her hand and clasp it in my own;  
And speak to her a poem of my world.  
There's much to it she does not understand  
And often I must pause and then explain  
An unfamiliar word, like surf, or beach;  
The clinging seaweed, or the soaring gull.

__

REVEREND:  
What poem didst thou recite?

__

PAUL:  
A wistful air  
That our man, Gurney Halleck sometimes sings:  
A poem for sad times, so this verse he calls.

__

JESSICA: _(sings)_  
“When salt smoke from the beach fire stings  
And through the pines the breezes blow  
When sky is crossed by seagull wings  
And shadows cloak the beach below;  
The seaweed's scorch'd upon the beaches  
And white gulls fill the air with screeches,  
Ska-ree! Ska-ree! The seagulls cry  
Again I'll see you bye and bye.”

__

PAUL:  
Aye, Mother, 'tis the very one indeed.

__

REVEREND:  
Young man, as proctor of the Ges'rit school,  
I'm charged to seek the Kwisatz Haderach:  
The male who truly can be one of us.  
Your mother sees the possibility  
That this potential may reside in thee.  
But often mothers look with doting eyes.  
A possibility, indeed, I see;  
But more than that I am not yet convinced.

__

What's this? Do you have no reply to give?  
I see you've a degree of self-control.  
You have some depths, young man, I'll give you that.

__

PAUL:  
If that is all, madame, may now I go?

__

JESSICA:  
But Paul, dear son, do you not wish to hear  
The wisdom that Her Rev'rence can impart  
To you about the Kwisatz Haderach?

__

PAUL:  
She said that those who tried that rank to claim  
Did fail, and perished in their vain attempt.

__

REVEREND:  
Some guidance more I yet may offer thee;  
And give thee hints at why these others failed.

__

PAUL: _(aside)_  
She speaks of hints, but does not know a thing.

__

_(aloud)_

__

Then speak thy riddle if it pleaseth thee.

__

REVEREND:  
Thou saucy lad! Then hearken to my hint:  
That which submits doth rule.

__

PAUL:  
That is thy clue?  
You think my mother taught me naught at all?

__

REVEREND:  
The slender willow tree bends to the wind,  
And weathers storms where stouter trees may break;  
Until the day when many willows stand  
And form a mighty bulwark 'gainst the wind.  
That is its purpose.

__

PAUL: _(aside):_  
Once again, that word!  
It strikes me like an unexpected blow.  
Have I some purpose, sinister and dark,  
Which I – alas! – am destined to fulfill?  
Am I some player on a tragic stage  
Who needs must play the role assigned to him?  
I weary of this self-important witch  
And all the pious platitudes she mouths.

__

_(aloud):_

__

You think that I could be this Haderach.  
You talk about me, but you haven't said  
A word of how my father we can help.  
I've heard what to my mother you have said;  
You speak as if already he were dead!

__

REVEREND:  
If there were aught to do, that we'd have done;  
Thy father lies beyond our help to save.  
Mayhap there is a chance to salvage thee --  
Unlikely, but a possibility –  
But for thy father, nothing; that's the truth;  
And when this truth you fully comprehend,  
You will have then a proper lesson learned.

__

PAUL: _(aside)_  
What oracle is she to make this claim?  
How dare she thus my father's life dismiss  
As if a thing of little consequence?

__

REVEREND: (to Jessica)  
You're training him, I see, girl, in the Way;  
The signs in him are clearly evident;  
And in thy place I would have done the same,  
The devil take the customary rules.  
As you've begun, then boldly carry on.  
Ignore the usual training regime  
That doles its lessons out at cautious pace.  
For his own safety, Paul requires the Voice;  
He has a start, but you and I both know  
How desperately he more has yet to learn.

__

The hour is late, and now I must retire.  
Good night, young human; fortune guide thy feet.  
I hope that you survive thy destined path.  
But if you don't; we still may yet succeed;  
For we are Bene Gess'rit, born to serve;  
And patient, we, within a patient cause.

__

_(REVEREND MOTHER begins to leave, then pauses and turns to JESSICA)_

__

_(aside)_

__

Alas, my child.

__

_(Exit REVEREND MOTHER)_

__

JESSICA: _(aside)_  
What wonder do I see;  
That fills my heart with a portentous dread?  
I feared to face the Rev'rend Mother's scorn  
And steeled myself against her righteous ire.  
I hoped, perhaps, some comfort I could glean  
From words of wisdom and her sage advice.  
When I was small, a rock she seemed to me,  
A pillar: tall, immovable and strong  
But did I in that visage stern bespy  
The glimmer of a melancholy tear?  
In school we learned to read her countenance;  
She could impart a lecture in a glare,  
And in a glance, an homily distill  
But what of this sad look she gives me now?  
It speaks of sorrow, and of deep regret.  
Of pity, and an overwhelming sense  
That she feels here as helpless as do I.  
Alack, I fear no comfort this doth give.

__

_(exit JESSICA)_

____

PAUL:  
“But for thy father, nothing...”

____

_(exit PAUL)_

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another scene with the Creepy Space Nun. She does get tiresome, but she also has a deep affection for Jessica, which makes her all the crankier in the present situation. I suppose I could have easily cut this scene to streamline the plot a bit, but I did want to delve a bit more into Paul's dreams of the future, which are important.
> 
> In the book, Paul comes off as tactiturn and sullen when the Reverend Mother is questioning him. Rather than try to work his uncommunicative grunts into the iamic line, I decided to play him cockier, and have him answer each question with a rhyme. It helped that bit to flow a little better and made it easier to write.
> 
> I wanted to have Paul's dream rendered in a different style than the rest of the dialogue and came up with the clever idea of doing it as a sonnet. At least I thought it was clever at the time; but I had a beast of a time hammering the thing out. Certain things I wanted to include, such as the line: "Tell me of the waters of your homeworld, Usul" and the description of the girl with blue-in-blue eyes, proved much harder to work into the meter than I expected. "Blue" is one of the easiest words to rhyme in the English language and yet I couldn't find any rhymes that really worked for me. Beating my head against the wall on that one stupid sonnet was the main reason it took so long to update this scene.
> 
> The song, later on in the scene came much easier. In the text, Paul mentions a poem that their man-at-arms and court troubadour Gurney Halleck likes to sing, and Jessica recites it. I decided to re-work the poem in the book as a Shakespearean song, modeling it off the Winter Song from "Love's Labours Lost".
> 
> I ended the scene on an unfinished line. This is something of a gimmick, but I felt it well reflected Paul's state of mind and gave some tension to his exit.

**Author's Note:**

> Back when I was in high school, I developed a wacky theory that Shakespeare was the Father of Science Fiction. I played with it a bit in college, trying to combine Shakespeare and STAR WARS, but eventually dropped it. But a couple years ago, when someone else came up with the same idea and translated the original STAR WARS movie into iambic pentameter as "William Shakespeare's Star Wars", I began noodling around with it again. It occurred to me that Frank Herbert's DUNE could work transformed into a Shakespearean Tragedy. Since so much of Herbert's plot takes place in the minds of the characters, Elizabethan theater with its traditions of asides and soliloquies might be a better way to dramatize the novel than a traditional movie or television adaptation.
> 
> After much thinking and procrastination, I finally began working on it; creating a faux Shakespearean play based on DUNE. To make the project slightly less insane, I decided to only adapt about the first third of the story, focusing on the tragedy of Paul Atredies' father, Duke Leto.
> 
> Since in the novel, each chapter is prefaced with an excerpt from the histories and commentaries of Princess Irulan, I figured that the best way to begin my drama would be with a prologue spoken by her. I based it in part on the first chapter quote from the beginning of the novel: "A beginning is the time for taking the most delicate care..." I thought it was appropriate. I also combined some material from a later chapter head discussing Paul's father, to establish that he is to be the focus of this play.
> 
> This project is going to be a beast, and I don't know if I will ever finish it; but I have a couple scenes down so far and wanted to make a start at posting it. I will update it as I go along.


End file.
